Kate's Story, 1914

by Adele Whitby

  “And what should we say to the Etheridges?” asked Mother. “We’ll need to prepare them for this surprise.”

  “Someone must send a telegram. Then I shall write a longer letter to them myself,” Great-Grandmother Katherine declared. “I intend to provide Nellie with a glowing letter of reference. Unless anyone disagrees?”

  No one spoke.

  “Good. Then, it’s settled,” my great-grandmother declared as she slowly rose from her chair. “Now, if memory serves, we are hosting the social event of the season tonight, and not a one of us is ready yet. Mrs. Taylor, perhaps you might arrange for a tray of savories to be sent to Kate’s room, seeing as she’s missed breakfast and lunch. And Shannon, lift your head, child. This is your chance to show everyone what an asset you’ll be to our family. Gladys, I’d like to go to my room now.”

  Gladys helped my great-grandmother to the door. Then she paused. “And would someone please do something about my great-grandson?” she called over her shoulder. “If I’m not mistaken, he’s spent the morning transplanting frogs into the fountain.”

  I gasped. “Mother, no! We can’t have frogs leaping out of the fountain during my party!”

  “And we won’t,” Mother said grimly. “We’ll take care of it, Kate. Run along now—it’s past time for you to start getting ready.”

  Shannon curtsied to everyone in the room before following me into the hallway.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss Kate!” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for everyone to realize so quickly that Nellie and I switched. Mrs. Taylor—”

  “Knows what everyone’s doing at all times,” I finished for her. “Don’t worry, Shannon. I wasn’t thinking clearly last night. I suppose it was awfully foolish for us to think we could hide the truth for more than a few hours.”

  “Everyone’s been in such a tizzy today,” she replied. “More deliveries than you can shake a stick at, the footmen running to and fro. . . . The housemaids said that even the ghost is restless today.”

  I stopped short. “What?”

  “Oh, you know, bumping into things and making a racket up in the East Wing,” Shannon said airily. “Lucy Jane said it’s searching for something, the poor lost soul.”

  The ghost knows, I thought. The ghost knows I was up there. Does she know I have the letter?

  “You know, it’s funny. Hank told me that . . .” Shannon’s voice trailed off as she looked at my face. “Oh, no, Miss Kate, now I’ve gone and upset you on your birthday!” she cried. “It’s just stories they tell to pass the time. I’m sure of it. The housemaids at Chatswood do the same. Don’t be frightened.”

  “I’m not frightened,” I replied. “Just . . . curious. If it’s not a ghost, then what is it?”

  “Not something for you to worry about on your special day,” Shannon said firmly. “Now, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll pin up your hair and draw you a nice, piping-hot bath. It’ll melt all your cares away. Next you’ll have your tray of nibbles, because your great-grandmother’s quite right. It would never do for you to faint at your very own birthday party.”

  “I am really hungry,” I admitted.

  “And then we’ll get you ready for your big night,” Shannon said. “I’m an old hand at such things, you know.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “You helped Beth get ready for her twelfth birthday party, didn’t you?”

  Shannon nodded. “And it will be an honor to do the same for you. Come along, Miss Kate.”

  For the next five hours, Shannon clucked over me like a mother hen. So much had happened since the early morning—saying good-bye to Beth and Nellie, spotting the ghost, sneaking into the East Wing, taking the letter—that it felt good to let someone else do the worrying for a bit. I ate one of the sandwiches Mrs. Hastings had made for me while Shannon worked on my hair.

  I’ve got to sneak into the East Wing and return the letter, I thought. I don’t want any evidence that I snuck in there earlier, especially if someone, or the ghost, is up there searching for it. And the sooner, the better. But . . . how? I can’t get caught by the ghost . . . or anyone else for that matter. Not after nearly getting in trouble this afternoon.

  Then an idea struck me. If I could get away from the party . . . even for just a few minutes, while everyone else is occupied . . .

  It was a ridiculous plan. I’d be the center of attention at my birthday party; how could I possibly sneak away without being noticed?

  But there would never be a better time to return the letter to its rightful place.

  I’ll try, I vowed. I’ll try my best to get away and put the letter back where it belongs.

  “Miss Kate?”

  I was so lost in my own thoughts at the moment that Shannon’s voice sounded very far away.

  “Do you like it?”

  I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Behind me, Shannon stood nervously, waiting to see my reaction to the hairstyle she’d created.

  “Oh, Shannon,” I breathed. “It’s beautiful.” My hair flowed down my back as sleek and shiny as a waterfall. Loose wisps of hair framed each side of my face; other strands were fastened in the back with a clip made of rubies and onyx. Shannon had also woven dozens of tiny rubies through my hair, which sparkled whenever I moved my head.

  “Now, let’s get you dressed,” Shannon said. “I swear I’ve been hearing motorcars coming and going for half an hour now.”

  My pulse quickened. “They’re here? The guests are here?”

  “A great many of them, I’d guess, from the sound of things,” Shannon said. She held open my gown and steadied me as I stepped into it as carefully as I could. My beautiful birthday gown! I’d been dreaming of wearing it for weeks, and now the moment was here at last. It was made of crimson silk, with matching ribbons to hold the mountains of ruffles in place, and there was a long row of glittering onyx buttons up the back. After she finished with the buttons, Shannon wrapped the velvet sash around my waist and tied it into a perfect bow. The sleeves were just slightly puffed and so light that they fluttered like butterfly wings whenever I moved. Next Shannon helped me with my elbow-length satin gloves and my shoes, delicate slippers that had been made in New York just for me. Finally, Shannon draped the Katherine necklace around my neck and fastened its clasp. I felt calmer, stronger, just from wearing it. And when I looked into the full-length mirror, I could hardly believe my appearance. Somehow, in the course of one afternoon, I seemed so much more grown-up—sophisticated, even. My eyes sparkled as brightly as my great-grandmother’s, and when I smiled, it was Beth’s grin I saw reflected back at me.

  We walked toward the stairway in silence. Shannon was right; judging from the sounds—clinking glasses, strains of music, an endless hum of chatter—all the guests were waiting for me. I tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in my throat.

  “You mustn’t be nervous, Miss Kate,” Shannon said, as though she could read my mind. “This is your moment, and you’ll be absolutely brilliant. I know it. Your cousin felt the same way, you know; she was trembling like a leaf. But when she started her descent down the grand staircase . . . well, it was like a transformation. I think—if I might be so bold—the Chatswood blood that runs in your veins is always at the ready. Now, and whenever you need it most.”

  “Thank you, Shannon,” I whispered, squeezing her hand. No wonder Beth was so fond of her.

  “I’ll see you afterward,” Shannon promised me. “And if you need anything during the party, anything at all, I’ll be right outside the ballroom, waiting for you.”

  “I know you will,” I replied.

  Then I turned away from Shannon.

  And began my walk down the stairs.

  The first thing I noticed as I reached the landing that led to the ballroom was that all the doors leading to the courtyard had been flung open; the walls were dripping with red roses; the cake, a creamy confection studded with cherries and perched on a wheeled cart, was taller than me. It was only after my eyes adjusted to the grandeur of it all that I s
aw the dazzle of the chandeliers, the enormous crowd of guests, and—much to my relief—the beaming faces of my family. I was even glad to see Alfie, and that’s something I never thought I’d say!

  A long receiving line formed at the bottom of the stairs, led by my parents, who covered me with kisses as they embraced me. Two distinguished men stood beside Mother.

  “Kate, my dear, you surely remember Governor Pothier and Mr. Gainer, mayor of Providence,” Mother said by way of introduction.

  “Happy birthday, Miss Vandermeer!” Governor Pothier announced as he bowed and kissed my hand.

  “And many happy returns,” added Mayor Gainer.

  Then came Mr. Thomas Archimbauld, the president of the University of New England, Mr. Arthur Andrews, president of the United Coal Company, and Dr. Miriam Schofield, the only doctor that Great-Grandmother Katherine would permit to treat our family. And on and on and on until, finally, Alfie appeared before me.

  “Happy birthday, Sis,” he said with a sly grin.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Frogs?”

  “I sent them home,” he confessed. “Their, uh, invitations were revoked.”

  Before I could think of a smart retort, Father whisked me onto the dance floor for the first dance of the evening. It began a whirlwind and continued that way, too—just as I’d suspected it would. I was grateful for the sandwiches Mrs. Taylor had sent to my room, for I scarcely had a chance to try any of the delicious food that Mrs. Hastings had prepared.

  Midway through the evening, Father gestured for the orchestra to stop. “If I might have everyone’s attention,” he announced, “we request the pleasure of your company in the courtyard.”

  What’s going on? I wondered.

  Father led me over to the railing, where we stood together. I could hear the waves crashing on the beach down below. The rest of the family soon joined us. I noticed that all the servants were assembled in the back as well. It made me smile to see Shannon and Hank next to each other, so close that their shoulders touched. Whatever surprise my parents had planned must’ve been something special indeed.

  First I heard a high-pitched whistle, followed by a pop and a bang. Everyone gasped at the explosion over the ocean—sparks like stars twinkling and tumbling into the waves. Then another, and another, and another.

  Fireworks! I thought, beaming at the night sky. My favorite! I glanced around at all the shining faces around me—everyone with wide eyes, staring transfixed at the show.

  That was when I realized: This was my moment to slip away unnoticed.

  Go, I thought. No one will even realize you’re gone.

  But it wasn’t easy to leave. The most glorious fireworks I’d ever seen were glittering right above my head, and almost every person I loved in the whole world was here to celebrate with me. I dearly wanted to stay.

  Then I remembered how Beth had left her own twelfth birthday ball last month, in her attempts to clear Shannon’s name. Did my cousin dawdle, dragging her feet in reluctance even though she knew the right thing to do?

  No. She did not.

  There will be other fireworks displays, I reminded myself. But there will never be a better time to return the letter. And I knew that that was the truth, even though I wished it weren’t so.

  I took the tiniest, most tentative step backward. People shifted a bit, making way without even looking at me. I felt a little giddy as I slipped through the crowd. It was going to work!

  Vandermeer Manor had never stood so silent; I had to be the only one inside its walls. I ran all the way to my bedroom, where the letter and Nellie’s keys were still hidden under my pillow. The feeling of aloneness pressed in on me from all sides as I continued to the East Wing. With each step, my heart beat a little harder, hammering in my chest. I clenched the keys tightly so that my trembling fingers wouldn’t make them jangle. There are no such things as ghosts, I repeated in my mind. There are no such things as ghosts. But no matter how many times I thought it, I couldn’t forget the veiled figure I’d seen outside, sweeping through the mist. . . .

  I forced myself to hurry through the silent, snaking halls. Finally, the door to the East Wing loomed before me. Almost done now, I thought. Just open the door, replace the letter, and leave.

  But as soon as the door creaked open, a hiss filled my ears.

  “Stay away.”

  I wasn’t alone after all.

  There was someone standing in the darkened hallway.

  It’s the ghost! I thought wildly as a cry of terror escaped from my throat. She’s here! She’s waited for me!

  “Stay away.”

  My heart seized; I thought it might stop beating altogether. I wanted to run away, run as far and as fast as I could. With the letter still clutched in my hand, I took a step backward, away from the door, away from the East Wing, away from that shadowy figure hovering in the gloom.

  But at that moment, I remembered what Beth had said: I’ve always thought you were the brave one.

  I forced myself to walk farther into the East Wing, though it took every ounce of courage I could muster.

  “Stay away.”

  “Who are you?” I asked. My voice shook, but only a little.

  A match was struck; a lamp was lit; and I found myself face-to-face with the stranger from the shadows. She was no ghost, but a very old woman—older even than Great-Grandmother Katherine—dressed entirely in black silk. She seemed as curious about me as I was about her. Just to see that she was a real flesh-and-blood person—and not some specter from beyond the grave—calmed my frantic heart.

  “So you’re the one who took the letter,” she said. “I thought as much. As soon as I saw the picture had been disturbed, I told your great-grandmother—”

  “You know my great-grandmother?”

  Her wrinkled face broke into a smile. “Of course I know her. Your great-grandmother is the reason I’m here.”

  “But who are you?”

  She tapped her chest. “I’m Essie. Essie Bridges.”

  Essie Bridges! The author of the journal—the lady’s maid to young Katherine and Elizabeth! “H-how?” I stammered. “How did you—”

  “Katherine begged me to come to America with her—oh, this was long ago, long before your time. She put on a brave face, and she was starry-eyed with love, but there was still a touch of fear in her. To leave her home and her people behind, especially her beloved sister, and to start a new life in a strange land . . . it was not an easy decision for her, or for me. It broke my heart to leave my other girl behind. But I couldn’t very well let your great-grandmother face whatever the future would hold without a friendly face from home.”

  “So you came with her and Great-Grandfather Alfred,” I said.

  Essie nodded. “Yes, I served as her lady’s maid in America, just as I had in England. Then the sun-sickness came.”

  Far away, I could hear the explosions of the fireworks; we would’ve been able to see them from the window if the curtains hadn’t been drawn so tightly.

  “What sickness?” I asked.

  “If it has a name, I’m sure I don’t know it.” Essie sighed. “But if I go into the sunlight, I get frightful rashes and blisters all over my skin. People see me and think I have the measles or the pox. But it’s not catching. No one ever got sick from being near me. I swear it.”

  “Oh, Essie. I’m so sorry.”

  “So was your great-grandmother. No matter what she told everyone—the other servants, the people in town—they’d run away when they caught sight of me.” Essie’s voice broke as the memory brought tears to her eyes. “Out of the kindness of her heart, she hid me away here, and lo these many years she’s been taking care of me. Can you imagine? The highborn daughter of a lord looking after a poor servant like myself. She brings me food, keeps me company, and most days she walks with me before sunrise so that I might take the air. If I’d had a daughter of my own, she couldn’t have cared for me better than your great-grandmother.”

  “I saw you!” I said suddenl
y. “I saw you walking—you were wearing a veil—”

  Essie nodded. “Aye, that was me. I cover up just in case the sun rises earlier than I expect.”

  “But how do you get in and out without anyone ever seeing you?” I asked.

  “Through an old servants’ entrance to the East Wing, of course,” Essie replied. “Might be you never noticed it downstairs; it’s nearly grown over with ivy.”

  “So there was never any ghost?”

  “Ghost? I should think not,” Essie said. “Though your great-grandmother played no small part in spreading those stories—she had to keep everyone away from the East Wing somehow. And now it’s been so many years that I don’t think there’s anyone downstairs who remembers old Essie. Of course, I know all about them; Katherine keeps me informed. The lady’s maid and the chauffeur . . . now there’s a tale for the ages.”

  “You know about Shannon and Hank?”

  “I do. And I know how you helped them.” Essie gave me a long look. “You certainly take after your great-grandmother. The girls in this family will do anything for love.”

  “What do you mean?”

  In the distance, I could still hear the fireworks going off. But there was one more thing I needed to ask Essie before I could return to the party. I held up the letter. Essie nodded.

  “Thank you for returning this to me,” said Essie. “I’ve been searching all over for it.”

  “You’re welcome,” I replied. “But why did you have it? It was written to my great-great-aunt Elizabeth.”

  “The answer to that question should best come from your great-grandmother,” Essie replied.

  Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-bang-bang-bang-pop-pop-pop!

  “The grand finale!” I gasped. “I’ve got to go! But . . . I’d like to come back sometime, if you wouldn’t mind another visit from me—”